Vikingar Fram Till Slutet
by screammealullaby
Summary: Nordic Vikings roam free, and what kind of hell can this cause? AU, DenNor, SuFin R&R Rating for violence and romance *EDIT* Complete!
1. Intro

A broad blonde man stood at the front of the Viking longship, staring at the ocean ahead. This man was known simply, as Denmark. He wielded a battle axe, and held it well. It was slightly taller than him, though he could swing whimsically, and never miss his mark. It had around the long wooden handle, just below the head, a worn string with a piece of amber hanging from it, which he swore was a protection of health, power and had the power against evil.

A much smaller man, Norway, was seen at his side at all times. He never wore a smile as Denmark did, though, Norway didn't believe _anyone_ could without losing it. Denmark was probably the only person who could hold his grin as long as he did. Norway admired it, though he found it slightly ridiculous as well, he _was supposed _to be an all powerful Viking, after all.

And the final main man on the longship was Sweden. He was tall, tallest; in fact, even more so than Denmark, with short blonde hair, blue eyes and a stoic composure that usually consisted of a scowl no matter his mood. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was necessary and as few words as possible. Sweden did not like the idea of working with Denmark, he hated him as it was but, as the three nations that made up Scandinavia, they intended to do trade in Constantinople together, and got their separate ways again after that. You see, even though they were that that made up Scandinavia, they were still independent countries and acted as such when desired.

Their ship, the longship, was used for trade, as per their journey, and was one of the most important in the Scandinavian naval forces. It was shallow and narrow, allowing them to bring it onto a beach a go into water 1 meter deep. It's stern and bow Identical allowed direction change, and the one the three men currently resided on, held 13 rowing positions. They were followed by several other longships, all consisting of men on their side.

They were all swift in battle and followed the 'law' as they attacked only enemies. Once or twice they came across the English, as the constantly raided British Isles, killing and stealing. They brought slaves from Russia for trade and many other things such as ivory and spices.

Denmark smirked proudly, swinging his axe and giving Norway a bit of a fright. "We'll be upon the European shore by dawn." Norway merely stood, monitoring the rowers, including Sweden who was helping as he was strong. "This is gonna be great Norge." Denmark said matter of factly to his friend. The smaller blonde averted his eyes from his old friend, putting a hand to the armored man.

"Don't get your hopes up, Den. You know how these things can go." He absently reminded him of a previous pillage when the damned Arthur Kirkland, better known as England, got in his way.

"Don't worry Norge; I won't make the same mistake this time." He smiled slyly and looked back at his men. "All of you, to shore! We rest until night and attack when the sun falls beyond the horizon." He swung his axe again, and Norway watched in silent hope that this would be successful. It was _not _fun dealing with and angry Denmark; when his smile left, there was hell to pay.

_**A short intro into the AU of Vikings~ I write faster with reviewww~ DenNor to come, let me know if you want any other pairs pleassse?**_


	2. Fear Strikes the Hearts

_**Ok, I've gotten requests for to add SuFin but the problem is, back in the Viking era, Finland was a freely traveled land, and it consisted of tribes. One of the tribes was the Finns. As it were, the ones called 'Finnish Vikings' hailed from the same place as the Swedes (hehe) so; 'Finn' as he will be called, will be a younger guy traveling along with Sweden.(old enough though that it's not illegal o.O). Will that work for you guys? It better~ If not, don't go on =)**_

September 20th. 2/3 of the original Vikings rested after the Battle of Fulford. They were now traveling lighter, fewer than the 300 longships they had started with; even their armor and weapons were lighter. They left the other 5,000 men behind, along with the rest of the longships. Normally, they hit the shore, did their work, and left, striking the village like lightning and leaving without a trace but not this time. This time Denmark had a plan, as he knew _England _would be there and this time he would _not _get in their way.

"Den?" Norway spoke softly to his friend from behind him as Denmark stared at the ocean.. "Are you ready for this? The sun will set soon; the men are resting for the most part, most sleeping. They're expecting a difficult battle."

"I've got this under control." Denmark replied, though he hadn't the upbeat and positive voice he usually held. "This is gonna be one of our greatest, Norge!" He turned in a rush to face his friend, his huge grin in its regular place and his hair shone golden in the evening's sunset. For a moment, just a moment, Norway didn't doubt him but he noticed something about the other. Were his eyes glittering with… tears? "Imagine how great we'll be after this! Then from here, we'll go onto Constantinople, and we'll control the world one day!" He dropped his axe to the ground with a loud thud and hugged the smaller man. Their armor made terrible sounds against each other and the smaller blonde cringed.

"D-Den, are you alright?" He pulled back to see his face.

"I've never been better Norge, never been better. With England under our control there's no one who can stand in our way." He hugged him tighter, not allowing him to pull away.

"Our?" Norway relaxed a little and hugged him back.

"Of course, you'll always be by my side right?" Demark stood tall though never let go, a worried look on his face as he stared down at the normally stoic male.

"We don't share the same king anymore, I don't know if we'll always be together." He mumbled softly, averting his eyes from the blue ones fixed on him.

"Norge." Denmark softly pressed their lips together, closing his eyes and possessively hugging his friend. "Please Norway, after this, we'll need no kings. It'll be you and me, forever. We just have to get rid of England; he'll readily surrender when he sees our forces and the fact we beat the first English forces that crossed out path."

Norway kept his eyes averted, resisting the urge to cry. He knew this would be harder than Denmark let on, or maybe Denmark himself didn't know. He really hoped it wasn't the latter because if it was, they didn't stand a chance. It was as if the Dane read his thoughts. "I know Norway. I know what I'm saying, now trust me. We won our first battle at Fulford, isn't that reassurance?"

Norway sighed and kissed Denmark's cheek grudgingly. "Well then, let's rule the world. We should get some rest, we head on to Stamford Bridge in the morn, it'll take a few days to get there and we have further to go after that. Goodnight Denmark, we're all counting on you." Norway headed back to their army, if you'll call them that. They consisted of 10,000 men roughly, the rest were left behind after their first victory against the English that day to guard the boats. Denmark was confident this would be an easy victory.

In his confidence, Denmark followed his tired friend, making small talk with him as they reached their camp. As they lie on the hard ground in an attempt to sleep (though impossible for Norway), the larger man hugged Norway close to him, whispering encouraging nothings like "we can't lose."

No matter how much Norway wanted to believe everything Denmark said, he had a terrible feeling. He tried to compromise between his head and his gut, but in the end he knew the next few days were not going to be good ones in the least. With a small shutter, he nuzzled closer to the Dane, enjoying what he believed could potentially their last time together.

"Sve?' Finn looked at the tall, quiet man.

"Hm?" He looked at him questioningly. Finn bit his lips softly, as worried as Norway was.

"Sve, do you think we can pull this off? I mean, do you think Denmark can actually lead us to victory against _England?_" Finn looked worriedly at his feet whilst situating a makeshift bed for the pair.

"Ah. We'll see. It's a shame if he can't." Finn stared at him for a moment, surprised at the length of the reply. The smaller boy was still young, though he had his experience with raids and he knew that the next few days would be hard and people were going to die. Not just the people they were going to kill: but those that were their own. The people all around them, sleeping peacefully, had the potential of dying in the upcoming week. Finn felt helpless to stop the inevitable as he thought about what it would be like to watch his friends die. He felt tears prickling his eyes and he fell silent, not moving anymore.

"Finn," Sweden spoke up again. "Are you ok?" Finn felt a sharp pain in his chest as he thought about the idea of Sve dying. He looked up in panicked realization and began to cry. Sweden's eyes filled with worry. "Finn?" He moved awkwardly over to him, hugging him closely.

"S-sorry," he sobbed, hugging the Swede back. "I'm just…scared. I don't think he can do it. I really don't think he can." "Hm" was the taller man's reply as he was pulled onto his lap. Finn buried his face in his neck, whimpering in between his sobs.

"Don't worry. I'll keep you safe." And another long reply made him look at the other in shock. Sweden was hurt to see the tear stained face and broken violet eyes. Sweden kissed his chest, not sexually, just sweetly, holding him tightly around his waist.

"But who'll keep you safe?" Finn started to cry again and kissed the Swede's forehead. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck.

"Me." Sweden's voice resonated in the younger's ears and he pulled him back so he could see his face, pressing their lips together. He brushed Finn's hair out of his face and wiped away his tears on his face. To his surprise, Finn's tongue slipped out to trail along his bottom lip. Hesitantly he allowed him access, his own tongue returning the battle and winning almost instantly. The younger's small hands tangled themselves into the short blonde hair.

Sweden stopped him and set him back on the ground. "You need rest." He clarified and kissed his lips softly. They lay down and Sweden's arm went around Finn's waist. Finn rubbed his eyes against the pain and urge to cry, eventually falling asleep to the sound of the other man's breathing.

There was a long battle ahead, and none of them were really ready for it no matter how much they wanted to be. Denmark and Sweden wouldn't admit it, Norway wanted so badly to believe his friend, and Finn couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone he cared about. What a feeling for a Viking to have.

As it were, there was nothing more for any of them to do but sleep. Tomorrow, their journey began to the Stamford Bridge, and on from there. It would take about a week perhaps? It didn't matter, they didn't know if they wanted the time to go fast of slow, get it over with or postpone it as much as they could in order to spend their time together. There were no guarantees, there were no promises saying they would all live or die. There were never any promises in life, and all they could do was cross there fingers and hide their fears.


	3. We're at War

September 21st. "Finn," Sweden nudged the boy awake and he rubbed is eyes groggily. "Let's go." Finn sat up, seeing that the older man had all their stuff packed up and ready to go. He struggled to his feet and threw on his leather tunic, grabbing is helmet in a rush. Sweden put his hand on the younger's shoulder, steadying him. He gave him his sword and gestured for them to follow the crowd of Vikings.

They trudged in silence for a good while and Finn worried about the next few days. He bit his lip in concentration and managed to trip over himself. Sweden caught him, looking down with worried, greenish blue eyes. Finn just shook his head, dismissing any worry the other may have and intertwined their fingers. "Sve, I still don't think we can do this but I know it'll be ok as long as you're alright." He mumbled quietly so as not to be heard by anyone, not even Sweden himself. Is efforts were for naught as the other man squeezed his hand a little tighter and looked at him once again.

"Don't worry." Sweden told him, his face showing no emotion at all. Finn didn't respond, wishing for the conversation to end, and to his fortune, it did. He took solace in the fact they had a few days if not a week before the real battle began. He tried to relax and enjoy his friend's company, though he seemed to be just as troubled.

Sweden pulled him along so they could catch up with Denmark and Norway, who were at the very front obviously. The Dane happily chatted with Norway, one arm around his shoulder as the other gestured with his axe. He pointed it at the sky and kissed the top of the grumpy man's head. Norway pointedly shoved him, though he didn't manage to get him off and pouted when Denmark laughed at his efforts.

Finn envied how they could be so carefree and relaxed; did they not understand how this was going to affect them? Or what was going to happen? Or did they know something Finn, Sweden and the rest of the men didn't? Finn really hoped it was the latter and that this was going to be an easy victory after all with an unnecessary build up. His violet eyes warmed at the thought and he even managed to smile a little bit.

"Norge, it's a beautiful day, wouldn't you say?" Denmark changed the subject from whatever he had previously been rambling about.

"I would say _nothing _like that you idiot." Norway rolled his eyes and finally managed to shove the arm off of him. He regretted their conversation from the previous night because it would seem the Dane took it was an invitation to be a clingy boyfriend.

"Oh come on, look, the sun might actually come out!" Denmark gestured to the sky again, though it was dull with grey clouds.

"Oh please, Denmark. Can we focus on the battle ahead of us? This isn't going to be easy." He sent a venomous glare at him, his voice low as not to alert anyone.

Denmark frowned and Norway bit his lip. "We talked about this." His blue eyes darkened as he glanced at Norway. He switched his axe to the shoulder next to Norway.

"I know, but think about it. This is _England_. He won't give up without a fight! You can't expect to just walk up to his army and watch him surrender!" He crossed his arms in a huff, watching his feet.

"If anyone can do this, it's gonna be me. I wouldn't put you in danger if I didn't _know_ that!" His words were sweet but his tone was angry, as were his features. Norway didn't like upsetting his friend in such a way but he wasn't going to sugarcoat it; he wasn't as sure as Denmark. No one was, and Norway highly doubted his friend. Norway decided to be quiet before anyone heard them.

Long hours passed, one after another and another as silence fell over the four. Again, worries were each to their own and they all were lost in thought. Finally, the sun was almost below the horizon and they were all worn out. Denmark called for them to stop and set up camp for the evening. This evening's camp was a little more defined, tents set up in a large group. The tent Denmark and Norway shared was slightly further from the groups to keep watch on the road ahead.

Norway sat out front on the hard ground, knees to his chest with his face buried in his arms. He was tired, needless to say but he didn't want to go into the tent until he was sure the Dane was asleep. They still weren't getting along perfectly and he didn't want to face a potential fight. "Norge," Well that plan failed. He fell beside the smaller blonde. "It's cold out here."

"What's the point, Denmark?" He practically hissed his name, though it wasn't intentional.

"You should come inside, they next few days are going to be harder." Denmark looked in the direction they were headed with a heavy sigh.

"Regret it yet?" Norway whispered with spite. He refused to look at the Dane who scoffed in return, glaring at nothing in particular.

"Hell no. I won't tell you again, _we _are going to rule the world. I need you to trust me." Denmark stood up, seemingly uncomfortable. He crossed his arms in a huff shifting his weight from one foot to the other impatiently. Norway sighed, standing on his own. Without a word, he looked at Denmark and climbed into the tent. "Come on!" Denmark followed him, blocking the only way out. They both sat across from each other, staring intently in a moment best described as tense. "You can't keep running away from this Norway!"

"Excuse me? I don't think I've run away! I'm still here aren't I?" Norway glared fiercely, crossing his arms. Denmark averted his eyes slightly, unsure of what to say. It was Norway's turn to scoff and, grudgingly, he crawled over to Denmark. A soft smirk covered the Dane's face and he put his hand to the back of the smaller man's neck, crushing their lips together. A muffled squeak escaped Norway's mouth and he grumbled slightly.

Denmark closed his eyes and slipped his hands into the younger's shirt. "D-Den! We're at war! I don't think this is a good time!" Sex was definitely _not _a good idea at the moment; sleep was.

"Come on Norge, it's always a good time!" He sang sweetly, pushing the other man onto his back. He sat over him, hands on either side of his head; that grin on his face for the first time in hours. Norway couldn't help but smile a little, seeing his friend finally perk up. He pulled the Dane down to softly press their lips together. Denmark pressed his knee between his legs, slipping his tongue into the other's mouth with no resistance. His hand moved to pull down the Norwegian's pants, fumbling blindly as their tongues fought.

"Hmn" Norway managed, grabbing at his shirt. "N-No." he gasped, breaking their kiss for only a brief moment.

"Why not?" Denmark growled into his mouth, pausing for a moment before moving down to nip at his neck.

Norway bit back a moan. "Because… we have a long way to go tomorrow, and we're leading everyone! J-just no! You couldn't have chosen a worse time!" He gasped, realizing he was no longer wearing a shirt and the other was now sucking at his chest.

Denmark chuckled. "Of course I could have picked a worse time! I could have pinned you down in the midst of battle right?" He nibbled softly on his nipple and palmed him, smiling proudly as the other arched beneath him. He couldn't argue with logic right?

September 22nd, 23rd, 24th. These days passed, quicker than anyone would have liked and all of them were restless. It was the night of the 24th and they were at rest. Nothing special happened on the long, grueling trip and the next day they were to reach the bridge. This meant in the next few days, the war against England would begin and all they could do was hope they had the power to win.

Finally, the morning of September 25th, they began the ever tensing journey to Stamford Bridge. It really wasn't terribly far and they knew once they crossed it, there was no going back. Not at all. They were putting their lives into trusting Denmark. Silent hours passed as they marched on, all of them almost too afraid to speak.

And there it was. The bridge was in sight. It seemed clear enough, no one around. Norway looked at his friend; his grin was gone, replaced by angry determination. "Den, I know we can do this." He tried to be encouraging. His smile returned in an instant, tainted with evil.

"Let's bring England to his knees!" Denmark yelled, holding his battle axe high above his head in a victorious stance and his army yelled in support. Before any of them knew it, another army, highly outnumbering theirs was on the other side of the bridge, none other than a single sandy blonde front and center. "Oh you think so you, bloody prat? You ungrateful gits!" He yelled.

At that moment, they all had the same thought…. _This is it._

_**~Wooo! Clichéd cliffhanger ending! One more chapter after this =) Here comes the drama! As always, reviews make me type faster!**_


	4. Den, It's Over

At that moment they all had the same thought... _This is it._

Not even the wind blew in that moment. Everything sat perfectly still: untouched and silent.

Everyone's minds began racing with different emotion. _'T-This isn't right' _Denmark thought to himself, though he kept this emotion hidden and stood his ground, angry his plans were being upset.

Norway looked at Denmark with worried eyes, praying that he kept his cool. The Dane looked as if he were about to snap, and it was very likely. Norway then stole a glance at that damned Brit; he stood tall (as he could), prideful, with his entire army standing strong behind him.

"Damn it England, stand down and surrender or watch as we defeat you!" Denmark yelled, shattering the silence that surrounded the thousands of people witnessing it. All that made up Scandinavia were slightly shocked at the authority his voice held, the articulateness of his words. They believed in him.

England on the other hand, great and powerful, was not going to stand down to the likes of this _scum._ He laughed. That Briton fucking _laughed._

"Answer me damn it! What's it going to be!" Denmark was getting angry and Norway wished to be anywhere but there.

England looked down as if contemplating, sandy blonde hair falling into his eyes. He didn't move for a good minute and Denmark was about to snap. Finally, a wild grin spread over the Brit's face. "Then let's go." He said, not so much yelled. "Let's go!" He shouted this time to his troops, raising his sword in the Scandinavians' direction.

Denmark countered instantly, raising his ax to signal attack. For a minute, neither leader moved, watching each other intently as their men ran by; crashing into each other in a mass of weapons and agonized screams in the middle of the bridge. Dying, people were already dying and it had only begun. Norway had run on to fight, as had Finn and Sweden. Finally, England and Denmark charged though a war now raged between them, and they had to fight to reach each other for a _proper meeting_. They were determined, and people fell all around them. No one could tell who was winning this battle, or what the final outcome would be: they just had to keep going.

Adrenaline rushed through them, though there was a sense of relief in all of Denmark's army as the battle had already begun and now it was a mere matter of survival. It was just as mortifying as Finn imagined, watching people die all around him. He stayed close to Sweden though not close enough to get hurt and helped as best he could. He looked at his Sve for a mere moment, feeling fear as he saw his already blood stained tunic and armor. This was worse than he had imagined perhaps. Finn felt an anger in his stomach, praying to any god he knew that Sweden would stay safe at the very least. Finn decided it was time to use his sword. He looked for the nearest English soldier. Found one, right nearby, after _his _Sve no less! He didn't have time to be scared; he took a deep breath, gripped his sword tightly, and ran the Brit through. A pained expression covered his face and he fell to the ground. Finn pulled out his sword, now covered in blood and stared at it for a moment. That was terrifying but it wasn't that hard. Finn began killing English soldiers for the sake of his Swede.

Norway fought heavily, panting as he swung his own ax at the attacking forces. He searched desperately for Denmark but saw no sign of him. He panicked, wondering if he had already been done in. Impossible, he wouldn't go down so easily. Thousands of people surrounded them and strangled, agonized screams filled the atmosphere, there was no chance he would find him.

On the other hand, Denmark angrily mowed over any British soldier that got in his way of finding England himself. His battle ax was now covered in blood, mutilated bodies surrounded him. His hair was in a terrible mess: wilder than usual and his blue eyes were dark with hate. He panted, searching wildly, but never spotting that sandy haired bastard, or even his Norway. He hated the thought of his Norway getting killed or hurt but he had bigger things to deal with, it was a large price to pay. "Lort! England, hvor er du!" He screamed angrily, swinging another fatal blow with his weapon.

On the other side of the battle, England smirked widely, watching the Norsemen fall around him and he ordered more from his men. He barked commands at everyone near him, watching in hunger was all of his enemies fell to their painful and fruitless deaths. Slowly, his army was pushing the damned Vikings off the bridge though the Scandinavian army was holding stronger than expected.

Minutes passed quickly like seconds, and by every minute England and Denmark neared each other through the thousands of men. Neither of them knew it, but that was the intended goal wasn't it? Hell was nearing and death was standing by the nations, watching to see who would fall: The entire empire of Scandinavian Vikings or England? Slowly, England's army was pushing them even further off the bridge. Fate was painfully hinting at the winner of this battle and _finally_ it was time to end the battle. Bursting into a small opening, both England and Denmark faced each other, somewhat surprised to have finally met face to face.

Not a single word needed to be said between them. England's maniacal smile returned to his face, and Denmark's grin returned with an evil hint of its own. The Dane's ax glinted red with blood in the afternoon's sun as it towered over his head, ready to swing. England held a sword firmly in his hand, it also was printed with death.

Blue eyes began to shine with anger, and he made the first move. He swung his ax hard but somehow it was blocked by the sword in the Brit's hand. Before the Dane could even pull his ax back the sword was swung at him, scratching his arm and tearing his sleeve. He glared angrily, and yelled as he attacked again, and missing again. Their battle raged on, ignoring every being around them as they dodged to keep out of their way.

Sweden and Finn were doing fine on their own, though they were still being backed off of the bridge and were both slightly injured and still neither of them could get a glimpse of their leaders. Not even Norway was around. Said blonde was frantically searching the hordes of men to find the Dane or the Briton. A huge commotion fired up close to the middle of the bridge and so he pressed on through the thousands of people, walking carefully over the dead. It wasn't easy and in the end took Norway almost an hour to get anywhere near where he suspected them to be.

People around were focused less on killing each other and seemed more interested in whatever duel was going on. Norway _finally _broke through the crowd, panting heavily. His eyes widened in fearful realization. Denmark looked like hell, obviously having taken more hits than England who was still fighting with a smile on his damned face. "No!" Norway yelled as the sword of England, bloodied and worn, ran into the Dane's gut.

A pained scream pierced into everyone's ears. It was over. They couldn't go on without Denmark; he was the only one who truly believed in them. A tear ran down Norway's face as he watched in horror. England pulled his sword out. His smile grew and he laughed, emerald eyes darkening as he saw the now bloodier sword, proving that he had in fact stabbed the man.

"Den!" Norway ran to his side, helping him to his feet. "We have to go!" He begged.

"Retreat…!" Denmark managed, blood seeping from his wound. Sweden helped carry the Dane away. The entire Scandinavian army gave up under the order of Denmark, too many casualties to count.

When they were far from England's army, Norway hurriedly tore the clothes from Denmark as soon as Sweden set him down, seeing to the stab wound in his stomach. Normally dull blue eyes glittered with tears. He couldn't die. He was a nation, England couldn't wipe out all of Denmark but the Norwegian had never seen his friend so weak. He was broken, hurt, _defeated. _"I told you we couldn't do it, you idiot!" Norway whispered angrily to the unconscious man.

Norway felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Finn's kind eyes staring at him, though his face was solemn. "I'd like to believe he could have Norge. It just wasn't his day."

Finally, they returned to the troops they had originally left behind, along with the longships. It was a silent journey back, as only about 30 of their boats were used to return home out of the 300 they began with. "Den, you idiot. Why did you underestimate him?"

Over the long recovery of Denmark, Viking raids became so few and far between as Norway kept a watchful eye on his friend and their armies. In the end, this, the Invasion of England, would be known as the final major Viking raid. They died down and the Viking era disappeared as did the injury on Denmark, though as any does, a scar remained on the nation and his history.


End file.
